


Not In That Way

by PhoenixInferno



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Drinking, I'm really not sure anymore, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixInferno/pseuds/PhoenixInferno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick had loved Pete since forever, but when he finally tells Pete how he feels, it could not go any more wrong. </p><p>This is my first fanfic posted on here, and trust me, I am terrible at summaries so this makes it sound pretty mundane. It's not. So read it and find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not In That Way

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any members of Fall Out Boy (as fun as that would be) so hopefully that's copy write covered. This is a complete work of fiction produced by the dark recesses of my brain that I don't even pretend to understand. It is meant to be set either during Cork Tree era or if you like during Infinity, there are no specific places or dates so read it as you see fit. Enjoy.

Patrick had always loved Pete. He can barely remember a time before he loved Pete to be honest, before the band, back when he was just a high schooler that played far too many instruments than his teachers knew what to do with. And Patrick had made peace with the fact that he would never tell Pete a long time ago, that he was just too damn scared. He learned to live with his heart jolting every time Pete pressed against him, or having mini heart attacks whenever Pete would say something suggestive, or on a lucky day, kiss Patrick. He had long since learned how to never stare for too long, how to conceal badly timed, but unpreventable boners, and how to lie through his teeth so as never to catch suspicion. One might even say that Patrick had become an expert in unrequited love. If you could study unrequited love, then Patrick would have so many letters after his name that ‘Patrick Stump’ would become lost. But just because he’s a pro, it doesn’t mean that it is easy. In fact, it is the most anger-inducing thing Patrick has ever experienced besides TMZ. Take right now for example. After the show, Pete had dragged the whole band off to some bar that apparently has good local music, and after successfully getting everybody so drunk that they could no longer say no, he had forced the whole damn band onto the dance floor. As always, Patrick was number one victim of his over exuberant Wentzness. Having been twirled round like a Southern Belle and been grinded into from behind in an over-the-top-Pete-is-just-messing-around way, Patrick had finally gotten away.

 

Patrick glowered over the top of his pint at Pete, who was now victimising Joe. Didn’t Pete know just what it did to Patrick when he messed around like that? And the crushing heartbreak he felt when he just acted like none of it mattered afterwards and that it had no meaning whatsoever? Patrick snorted though it wasn’t particularly funny. Of course Pete didn’t know. Of course he acted like none of it mattered because to him it really didn’t matter. Patrick could never tell Pete how he felt because it would screw up their friendship, the band probably wouldn’t survive, he would lose the two things that kept him going, bla, bla, bla. Patrick’s mind cut off there- he knew that train of thought so well that he didn’t even have to follow it any more. Patrick took a swig of his beer, but almost choked when something warm and bouncy wrapped its arms around him.

‘Why are you being a grumpy-Trick?’ Pete pouted, not letting go.

Patrick made a non-committal grunt and detangled himself from Pete’s arms. It didn’t seem to put Pete off, who took that as an invitation to finish the rest of Patrick’s pint.

‘Seriously though, I can tell something’s up. You’re not as happy as you usually are.’

‘I’m fine, Pete. Might just head back early.’

‘No, I am not letting you get away with that one again.’

Pete put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, turning him around. Damn it.

‘Patrick, I’m your best friend, I know when something is bothering you.’

‘And as my best friend you should know when to just drop it.’

Pete looked like a wounded puppy for a second, but shook it off. Patrick wasn’t sure why he was sounding so angry, but he really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Pete wasn’t put off.

‘Right, now I know that something is really wrong. Tell me. Is it touring? I know it’s hard, but we’ve done worse, hell we have tour busses now. Is it the others-‘

‘-No, it’s not-‘

‘-Is it because of those articles? Because Trick, you really shouldn’t listen to them, you look perfect-‘

‘Yeh, I know not t-‘

‘-or is it because Hemmy got hold of your hat? Seriously Trick, I said sorry-‘

‘No Pete, look just-‘

‘-then tell me Trick, you have to tell me, I need to know.’

Was it just the alcohol that was causing that buzzing noise in Patricks head or could he be any more irritated now? Patrick looked up into Pete’s eyes, his eyeliner still there from the show.

‘Trust me, you don’t want to hear it’

‘Just tell me, Trick, I can help’

‘Seriously, you don’t-‘

‘Just tell me!’

‘Fine! I love you, ok?! Is that what you wanted to hear? I love you!’

Pete just looked at Patrick in shock. Neither of them spoke. Panic took over Patricks mind. Did he really just say that? Oh God, and Pete isn’t saying anything, why would he, he’s disgusted, he’s creeped out, he’s- Patrick needed to run. Not looking back at Pete, he turned around and headed straight for the door as fast as he could without running. He got into the nearest taxi, squeaked out the name of the hotel, then leaned back. How could he have done that? It’s over, it’s surely over, the band, their friendship, everything. A tidal wave of emotion is swelling up inside of him until it hits. Pete rejected him. Somehow Patrick makes it to his hotel room before breaking down completely. He screams into the pillow, soaking it with tears that just won’t stop, letting everything wash over him, reliving every damn word he said, every damn mistake.

By the time the others get back, Patrick has showered, changed and is pretending to be asleep.

 

The next day is awkward. They are back in the bus, traveling to wherever they have to be next. Everyone is doing their own thing. As soon as they got on, Patrick had shut himself away in his bunk, busying himself with a few new ideas on his laptop. Last night still burned brightly in his mind, but he pushed it away now. The worst thing he could do was dwell on it, he decided. Move on. How the bloody hell could anyone move on from that?

The bus stopping makes Patrick look up. There is the sound of the door opening, lots of feet moving, the sounds of chatter fading as everyone gets off for lunch. Patrick stays in his bunk, hunched over his laptop where he has been for the entirety of the journey so far. Thinking that he is now alone, he ventures towards the kitchen for food, but stops as soon as he opens the divider. Pete is lounging on the sofa, feet over the arm, staring blankly at a well-worn book. He looks terrible. Patrick immediately picks up on the little tell-tale signs that he hasn’t been sleeping from years of experience, the darker circles under his eyes, dishevelled appearance, curling in on himself. But Patrick puts its down to a hangover as his brain is mostly full of ‘oh shit’ at this point. Pete looks up as Patrick enters and sits up. They look at each other, but just as Pete opens his mouth to say something, Patrick cuts in.

‘Look, I was drunk and angry last night. I didn’t mean anything that I said, forget about it, alright?’

Of course you’re denying it, Patrick thinks to himself ruefully. You just want to keep him. He tries to move past to get some food, but Pete grabs hold of his arm, forcing him to look up into his eyes. Patrick catches his breath and his heart beats faster at how close they are, as it always does.

‘Wait Trick, you-‘

‘-Look, forget it. I don’t love you, forget it’.

Pete’s grip loosens a bit and Patrick is able to get away, not capable of looking at Pete right now. Food forgotten, he goes back to his bunk and puts his headphone on, trying desperately to drown out his beating heart and doubting , cursing mind, fighting the tears of frustration and desperation. He hears some footsteps moving towards the divider, but then they pause and move away again. Patrick refuses to think about it.

 

Patrick is very unsure for the next few days. On the surface, things are back to normal. Patrick talks to Pete, they chat, they play together, they have chemistry on stage, in interviews everything is hunky dory. But anyone who is close to the band can tell that nothing is normal. Patrick makes sure that he’s never touching Pete, that he is never around temptation. Pete tries to stay close to begin with, but gets the message, no longer looking offended when Patrick edges away whenever Pete looks like he could be getting touchy-feely again. They chat, but it’s only small talk, not the big stuff that they used to do. But the bit that Patrick misses the most are the calls in stupid o’clock in the morning from a Pete who cannot get to sleep, and who needs Patrick to sing to him, or just talk until exhaustion takes over. They still happen for a while, but Patrick just can’t keep them up. He is distant. He hangs up early and soon enough the calls stop all together. Patrick refuses to let his loneliness, his guilt show, even when Pete turns up looking dishevelled and out of it because Patrick didn’t help him get over his insomnia this time. But it’s better this way. Patrick has to be cold, he can’t let his feelings in, he has to keep them locked away. If he let them rein free, he isn’t sure whether he could live with the pain. Things get seriously chilly in the bus.

 

Pete starts turning up late after shows and Patrick pretends not to notice straight away. It takes a little while to work out where Pete is disappearing to after each show, but after seeing the swollen lips, the messed up hair, the overly crumpled clothes and that smell that is something more than post-show sweat, Patrick puts it together. Pete is having sex. A lot of sex. Probably with a different fan-girl every show. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Before Patrick would have tried to reason with himself, then given up and cried silently in his bunk. However, now Patrick just turned away and buried those feelings deep inside, forcing himself to put all of his energy and emotion into new music. Not that he was happy with much of what he was making. So far it was either too angry or heavy or too depressing to be showed to the others.

 

However, Patrick can’t keep all of that emotion in. No one could, it would kill them inside. The shows have changed, the vibe is different. Patrick is now a monster on stage, throwing all of the emotion out and turning into fucking good music. He bounces around the stage like an unparalleled force, singing into the microphone with everything he has, unleashing the demons inside of him. The crowd love it, but they can’t feel the increased tension to overcome, or know that being on stage is really the only time Patrick can truly set his emotions free. He still interacts with Pete on stage, but again this is different because Stage Patrick doesn’t give a flying fuck. So what if he sometimes grinds up against him? And that time that he put his hand in Pete’s hair and pulled his head back to lick up his neck? Yeh, well he can’t be held accountable for his actions, blame it on the adrenalin. Sometimes he catches Pete’s eye on stage, sees how they are darker, how they follow the sway of his hips as he struts across the stage. He notices how once he licked his lips, how those dark brown pools fluttered shut when he pulled on his hair, the echoes of a moan reaching Patricks ears when he licked up his neck. He tries to ignore that too, blames it on stage gay, adrenalin, anticipation of his next fangirl, anything but that which would give him hope. No, he has to push that away. Pete had already shown him just what he felt about that. He just bounces away and screams out the next lyric.

 

After one particularly high energy show, Patrick, Joe and Andy are waiting on the bus. Joe and Andy are playing Fifa, while Patrick has his headphones in again, just chilling- he wants nothing more than to flop on his bed and sleep. He is about to head off to the bunks when a well-aimed pillow lands on his face. Looking up, he sees Joe’s mouth moving. He pauses his iPod.

 ‘…late again, but we’re already half hour over, go and get him?’

Patrick blinks as he processes what Joe was asking, then groans. Pete was late. Again. And he had to go get him. Muttering something about ‘you owe me one’, Patrick shoved his iPod in his pocket and headed towards the bus door.

Patrick had just reached the backstage door, when it banged open. A short blonde guy stormed out, anger on his face, and seemingly fighting back tears.  What Patrick didn’t expect to see was Pete trying to catch up to him, still in his show clothes, but with his jacket missing somewhere. Stuck out in the open and with nowhere to go, Patrick leaned against the wall, partially hidden by shadow. He pressed play on his iPod- this was not something that he wanted to listen in to. The boy turned. Pete seemed to be trying to explain something, or maybe apologise, but they boy wasn’t having any of it. Their clothes were ruffled, their hair was mussed up, and the kid was sporting the early signs of a hicky on his neck. Suddenly the kid put up his hands and said something that Pete seemed to have no answer for. As loud as his music was, some words slipped through- something about lying, hiding, unappreciated. Patrick tried to tune it out until he hears his name. Neither of them are looking at him- why would they mention him? The kid leaves then and Pete lets him go. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to find himself face to face with Patrick. He freezes. Patrick takes his headphones out.

 ‘Hey, we’re late, we should go’ he says evenly and heads back towards the bus.

Pete follows, dumbfounded, but finds his voice again before they reach the bus.

‘H-how much did you…’

 ‘I didn’t’

Patrick looked over his shoulder. He meant to keep on going, but looking at Pete makes him stop. Pete looks a wreck. There are dark circles under his eyes, darker than normal, betraying that he hasn’t been sleeping at all. He looks thinner and is shaking slightly, though Patrick has no idea why. Pete had stopped too. He has no idea why he does what he does, maybe he’s just masochistic, but he reaches out and laces his fingers through Petes. Pete looks down at their joined hands, then slowly up at Patrick. Patrick’s mouth twitches at the edges and leads them back to the bus. He lets go of Pete’s hand as soon as they are through the door,  immediately missing it, but makes his way over to Joe and Andy who cheer as Pete comes in and yell up to the driver to get going.

Later that night, Patrick is woken by the sounds of shuffling feet. The rest of the bus is quiet; it must still be in the early hours of the morning. Patrick’s curtain is pulled aside and Pete is standing there, looking even worse. It was only then that it truly hit Patrick just how badly Pete must have been coping lately. Whenever Pete’s insomnia was acting up, or whenever he was in a bad headspace, he would always come and cuddle Patrick, and for an unknown reason he could fall asleep or he would calm down and become his usual cocky bastard self, complete with his Cheshire cat grin. But Patricks mistake had put an end to all that. He thought that Pete had just gotten on with everything, never considering that he might not be coping, that he’s be struggling, that being so wound up and locked inside his own head would hurt Pete more than imagined. Without saying a word, Patrick scooted over against the wall and pulled back the covers. Pete climbed into the bunk and snuggled up, his head on Patrick’s chest, face up pressing into his neck so that Patrick could feel his hot, shallow breath. One arm snaked across his stomach, holding on his side as if he would disappear. Trick carefully pulled to covers up over them both and gently put his arm around Pete. Pete’s skin jumped at the touch, but quickly relaxed into it. His grip on Patrick’s side didn’t diminish. Patrick felt himself choking up; what had happened to Pete for him to become so vulnerable, to be so scared? Hot tears fell silently from his eyes. Was this his fault? Despite the drowning guilt, part of Patrick was glowing with Pete curled up next to him. This was how it was supposed to be. This was home. When Pete’s breathing had evened out and Patrick is pretty sure he is asleep at last, he whispers out into the darkness.

‘I...I…’

But he can’t even say it to himself. Instead he manages to get out a simple and honest ‘I miss you’.

 

When Patrick wakes up, Pete is still passed out. At some point in the night they ended up spooning each other, with Patrick being the little spoon as always, their arms and legs tangled. The rest of the bus is quiet. This is totally weird: Patrick is always the last up. He throws his head back onto the pillow, making Pete snuffle, but he doesn’t wake up. But after ten minutes it’s no good, Patrick just can’t get back to sleep. He awkwardly disentangles his limbs from Pete’s and amazingly manages to clamber over him and out of the cramped bunk without waking him up. Patrick stumbles up the bus, looking back at his three sleeping band mates. A smile creeps in at the corners of his mouth, and he turns away despite the fact that there is no one there to see him. His tummy feels hollow. Might as well get breakfast before Pete and Joe eat him out of what? Bus and...Bus?

By the time that Pete wakes up, everybody else is in the lounge area. One of the Indiana Jones films is on, but Patrick is mostly staring out of the window at the generic American Mid-West landscape. Andy is reading and Joe is picking the fluff off his jumper sleeves. If they noticed that Pete and Patrick slept in the same bunk last night (how could they not?), they haven’t said anything. Pete stands in the divider for a second, looking bemused, then flops down on the sofa next to Patrick and proceeds to put his feet in Patricks lap, getting his phone out. He still has his sleeping clothes on, as well as the makeup and hair gel from last night’s show, but Trick smiles anyway, turning his head to survey the scene from the window once more. He thinks, he hopes, that this is Pete’s way of saying ‘I forgive you’. Somewhere in his pocket, Tricks phone vibrates. He can’t be assed to check it right now. A nudge to the side of his thigh makes him look up. Pete is still staring at his phone, but his lips are twisting in a way that suggests he wants to smile, and his eyes dart over to Patricks, see that he is looking then quickly dart back down. Patrick fishes his phone from his pocket and sees one new message.

From Pete Wentz:

Miss you too Lunchbox

Knowing that he is blushing, Patrick looks away, but he has a smile on his face. He playfully aims a kick at Pete’s feet and hears a snort from his direction. Joe and Andy look up. Andy just goes back to his book, but Joe joins in in what becomes a very violent battle of footsie which ends with Joe begging for mercy as Pete and Patrick tag team.

 

Things sort of go back to the way they used to be before the whole, pointless debacle. Pete is no longer set on self-destruction and actually is on the bus on time. Sure, he disappears every now and again, but not nearly as much as he used to. Patrick is more open and sociable, and less of a monster on stage, though still attacks it with the same amount of energy. He no longer has moments of sexual abuse towards Pete, but they still go over into each other’s space, exchange looks, and mess around. Patrick keeps his feelings locked up. Just because he and Pete get along again does not mean that he can risk anything happening again. Things are just great the way they are. They are back to touchy-feely, goofing off, best buds. Patrick can’t risk that for anything. Pete is sleeping better and is less of a mess, but he still crawls into Tricks bed sometimes at night. Trick doesn’t mind, just moves over, sometimes humming till Pete drifts off. Sometimes Pete would crawl into Patrick’s bed just because. It was one of those nights that it happened.

 

They had just played an awesome show in Phoenix and were heading back for a long awaited hotel night. Joe had started on his weed in the bus so of course everyone took a puff or two, but as soon as Patrick got into the shower, having turned down the others pleas to head to the bar, he felt the effects wearing off. Patrick loved hot showers, especially now that he couldn’t have one every day. For a while he just let the water cascade over his body, letting it wash away the stresses and aches as well as the sweat and grime. Eventually he got out and towelled himself dry. He loved hotel towels too, all fluffy and white and soft. Wrapping one around his waist, Patrick headed back into the bedroom to find one Pete Wentz sitting on his bed, playing candy crush or something. When he came out Pete looked up and smiled in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Trying (and failing) not to blush, Patrick moved over to his bag to pull out some sleep clothes. Pete’s eyes followed him the whole way, making the skin on the back of Patrick’s neck prickle, but for some reason he didn’t want it to stop. His quickened heart rate and the sound of blood pumping in his ears made Patrick aware of just why he didn’t want Pete to stop. God damnit, why did he have to be crushing so hard? Patrick turned his back and bent double slightly, trying to get his sleeping pants on without dropping the towel. Of course, nothing goes according to plan, especially when you are already shaking, bright red and the love of your life is lying on the bed staring at you. The towel slipped down past his hips just as he managed to yank up the pants, but he doesn’t know how much might have been seen. ‘Smooth, Trick’ he thought to himself.

‘Still so modest’

Patrick literally jumped at the sound of Pete’s voice so close to him. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that Pete was right behind him, his eyes dark, his pupils blown, and staring right at Patrick. Patrick turned away again, pretending to be sorting out the tie on the front of his pants, thinking ‘ohshitohshitohshit’ and trying to control his heart rate.

‘You’re so cute when you get flustered’

Pete’s hand ghosted up Patrick’s arm and over his shoulder, his fingers gently brushing the side of his neck before Patrick felt his lips press softly where his fingers had just been. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips, moving his head to the side to offer up more skin for Pete to explore. He had to gasp as Pete found that magic spot at the top of his jaw, just below his earlobe. Strong hands rested on his hips and turned him around slowly so that he was finally face to face with Pete, their faces inches apart.

‘Pete-‘

Patrick got one look at Pete’s dark, lust-filled eyes before his mouth claimed his own, their bodies pressed flush together. It wasn’t a soft, gentle or tender kiss, but it was perfect. It was messy and wet, all teeth and tongues, and just…Pete. He tasted of whiskey and weed. One of Pete’s hands secured itself in Patrick’s hair, locking him in place while their tongues danced. Patrick’s hands found the hem of Pete’s shirt and pushed it up, running his hands over the exposed tan skin, feeling the muscle beneath. His hand brushed over Pete’s nipple, making him gasp and pull away slightly. Deliberately, Patrick slowly dragged his hand over Pete’s nipple again, applying more pressure over the sensitive nub, pinching it slightly. Pete’s eyes fluttered as he moaned deliciously, making Patrick want to do anything, everything, just to cause Pete to make that sound again. Their eyes met, both breathing heavily. Almost tentatively, his insecurities showing for the first time, Pete pulled his t-shirt over his head. Pete shirtless was a sight that Patrick had seen many times, fantasised about many times, but this time it felt different. His pulse almost became sluggish as time seemed to slow, just taking in the sight in front of him. Slowly, Patrick lowered his head and began to lick along the ring of thorns, nipping at the hollow of Pete’s collarbone. He put his hands on Pete’s hips and walked them towards the bed until the back of Pete’s knees hit the edge and they tumbled down. There was a moment of shuffling up the bed until they were both comfortable, Patrick straddling Pete, then Pete put his arms around Patrick’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss. Patrick was totally blissed out, all of his senses occupied with _Pete_ , the heat in the belly coiling, his cock getting harder, his heart beating out a violent beat against his ribcage. He shifted his weight to get a better angle to kiss Pete and accidentally rolled his hips forward. Patrick knew that Pete had felt exactly as he had because they both gasped at the same time. Pulling away from the kiss, he looked directly into Pete’s eyes, smirked and rolled his hips again, rubbing their dicks together. Pete arched his back, bringing his hips up to meet Patricks, searching for that friction. Then suddenly Patrick was on his back and Pete was above him. Pete took hold of Patrick’s wrists and carefully placed them above his head on the bed sheets, then smiling that grin that had too much teeth and was heart stopping all at once, ground his own hips down, and it was Patrick’s turn to arch his back into it, moaning as felt their dicks brushing together again. They grinded together like fucking teenagers and if Patrick wasn’t careful he’d be creaming his pants for the first time since he was 16. Pete ducked down to claim his mouth again, explore his jaw, kiss down his neck, his chest, make his way down his belly. It was all so much. Everything Patrick had wanted was happening, he couldn’t think, everything was filled up with Pete. One of his hands was pulling at the waistline of Patricks sleeping pants, exposing more skin as he sucked a bruise into his hip bone, while the other reached down and palmed his aching cock through his pants.

Patricks mind caught up with him.

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I’m not that drunk.’ Pete mumbled against his hip, his hand squeezing his cock gently.

‘You’re still high.’

‘Not anymore’

Pete moved his mouth across, tracing the fair hair line that started at Patrick’s bellybutton and disappeared below his pants.

‘Pete, stop’

Patrick pulled himself up onto his elbows, screaming at himself to stop, but the other part of his brain was in control now.

‘Pete, I’m serious, stop.’

Pete paused and looked up at Trick, then sighed and rested his chin on Trick’s tummy.

‘Something tells me you don’t really want to stop’ he said with a seductive grin, his hand ghosting over Tricks still hard cock.

‘Pete I- please, just stop and listen would you?!’

He stopped, blinking up with some surprise.

‘Look, Pete I…’ was I really about to do this? ‘I don’t know if you are in your right mind just now, I don’t know if you are drunk or sober, or if you’re high, and I…I can’t screw things up, not again, I can’t lose you like I did and doing this would be just that. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and to think ‘God, what a mistake’ and for us to go back to not talking and…I can’t risk that.’

Pete sat up and so did Patrick. Pete leaned forward, as if closer proximity would help convey his message.

‘I do want this, Trick. I am in my right mind and, God you have no idea how long I have wanted to do this, how serious I am about this.’

‘But-‘

‘You remember when you saw me arguing with that boy by the backstage door that time? You know why he was so angry? I called him by your name! He was giving me head, and I called him by your name because God Trick, I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so. Fucking. Much.’

Patrick’s mind went blank.

‘Please, Trick’

‘Pete, you- you’re not thinking straight, how can you be-‘

Pete sat back with a huff.

‘Do you not trust me?’

‘No, well yes, I mean it’s not that-‘

‘I get it.’

Pete slid off the bed and picked up his shirt.

‘Wait, Pete- you’re leaving?’

‘I think I’d better.’

‘You don’t have to, you know. We-we can just sleep-‘

‘-Look, I made a mistake, I misjudged it, just, let me leave with what little self-respect, dignity, whatever I have left.’

Pete reached the door and opened it, before pausing and looking back at Patrick, still sitting on the bed.

‘Make up your mind and stop fucking with mine.’

Then he walked out and the door closed behind him. It echoed around the room, exaggerating the silence Pete had left.

‘Stupid stupid stupid’

Why did he have to talk? Everything was fine until he went and opened his goddamn mouth, why did he have to question it? Having a cold shower passed through his mind, but he didn’t even need it, not unless you can drown in a shower. His mood was dead. He killed it as soon as he opened his goddamn foolish mouth. Patrick threw himself down onto the bed and screamed into the pillow.

 

Patrick was rudely brought back to the land of the living by the sound of his phone going off. Groaning, he untangled himself from the covers enough to extract an arm to blindly reach his phone. Narrowing his eyes at the too bright screen, Patrick saw that it was his tour manager calling.

‘What?’

‘Get your ass up, we’re leaving in half an hour.’

Patrick groaned again.

‘Why?’

‘Morning interview. State radio.’

Patrick grunted.

‘Alright, see you in a minute’

He hung up, mentally preparing himself for the cold that would hit when he threw back the covers.

 

The ride to the station was uncomfortable to say the least. Pete and Patrick had barely looked at each other and were sitting at opposite ends of the bus. Joe and Andy could tell that something serious had gone down, but didn’t seem to want to pry, especially when both of the idiots seemed likely to lash out if anyone actually talked to them. Twenty minutes later saw the four of them, all nursing a coffee or tea of some sort, sitting in the studio with a small blonde presenter opposite them all, sounding overly happy the way all morning show presenters do. Some songs were played, generic questions asked about how the tour was going, what are the worst things about living on a bus, what is the best state to play in... Patrick just sat back and sipped his tea, letting it all wash over his head as Pete took the lead in answering the questions, like always.

‘Ok, so we’ve got a couple of questions from our listeners just before we let you go’

Patrick zoned back in again.

‘This one is from Katie: Have you ever hooked up with anyone on tour, including members of your own band?’

Patrick blanched. A quick glace to his right saw that Pete had gone utterly still and suddenly very pale, decidedly not looking at Patrick. The presenter looked from one to the other then slowly smiled as it all clicked in her mind. Before she could say anything though, Joe stepped in.

‘I know that I can’t really speak for the others, but I think that we are all clever enough not to do anything that would mess with the band and other bands, though we are all kinda stupid.’

‘Anything to add? Pete?’

Pete glanced up, and just like that his smile was back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. If he was anything like Patrick, there was a hurricane going on inside right now.

‘Yeh, all that fanfiction and stuff on the internet about us all hooking up with each other doesn’t happen in real life, it’s actually kind of disturbing so no, I’ve never properly hooked up with anyone on tour.’

Patrick was gobsmacked, and mega pissed off. Not only had Pete just denied in front of him that anything had happened last night, but he was also denying that anything had happened with all of those god damn fangirls (and boy) that Patrick had had to extract Pete from whenever he made them late after a show because he was too busy fucking. And he thought that hooking up with bandmates was disturbing. The rest of the interview was mercifully short.

 

They went back to the hotel, got their bags, and got back on the bus. Patrick just put his headphones in and tuned the rest of the world out. After about 10 minutes of driving, someone kicked Patricks foot. He looked up to see Joe, who simply grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Confused, Patrick stumbled. A loud ‘Hey’ from across the bus made Trick look up to see Andy doing exactly the same thing to a moody Pete, then Joe began to push him towards the bunks.

‘Joe! What the hell?’

‘We are sick of you guys being total dicks and messing up this band by either fucking or not fucking with each other, so just man up sort it out.’

Joe pushed him into the bunk area just as Andy pushed Pete and they kind of knocked into each other.

‘You are not coming out until you’ve sorted out your shit’ Andy said, pulling the divider across. The sounds of a lot of bangs and scraps followed.

‘I think they’ve blocked the way out’

‘No shit’

Pete threw himself onto his bunk.

‘You know you’ve been a real dick, Pete’

Patrick was shaking, he knew that he should just shut up now, but he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘I’ve been a dick?’ Pete replied, getting up and moving close enough to Patrick to try and tower over him- it really didn’t work.

‘Yeh, what the hell was that back there? Just pretend last night didn’t happen? Just lock it away under the heading ‘regrets to forget’, but don’t worry, I’m sure it can be dredged up to become a catchy lyric or two’

‘Well I’m sorry if you think it would have been better to tell the world that I want to fuck my singer, especially when he doesn’t even know if he wants to fuck me and instead ignores me during the day, gets jealous when I fuck other guys yet still grinds on me on stage and can’t tell me what is going through his head because he’s too fucking scared to take a chance!’

Pete’s voice had started off quiet but now he was shouting, moving forward with each reason until Patrick’s back was against the wall. When Pete finished he was breathing heavily, staring down at Patrick who was stock still.

‘I never got that jealous.’

Pete snorted.

‘Yeh?’

‘Yeh.’

‘Bullshit.’

Patrick let it slide.

‘And you were fucking fangirls every night. I never had a chance against that, no matter what I felt.’

‘Yeh, well it was both, I found comfort in both. You saw that, you walked in on me one time, remember? And there was the argument.’

They were both quiet now, the initial anger subsiding. The air was heavy around them, the only sounds coming from the movement of the bus. Patrick was suddenly aware of how close they were again. But he couldn’t let that happen again, not just yet. He’d opened himself up, started talking about things he never thought he would be able to say in front of Pete, and now he had started, he couldn’t stop. There was something that he had to know.

‘I told you that I loved you. I told you, and you just stood there. You said nothing.’

‘I know.’

‘I took that chance, and you left me hanging. Can you blame me for being distant, and trying to forget about it? And failing?’

Patrick looked up at Pete, surveying the mixture of emotions that passed his face. There was shame and hurt, but also a slight hint of indignation.

‘I tried to reply in the morning, but you wouldn’t let me. You said that you didn’t love me. What was I supposed to do?’

‘You could have said something. Anything. Even if it was no, at least I would have known, at least we could have moved on faster and not had the whole cold shoulder phase!’

Pete shook his head then suddenly thumped the wall just above Patricks head, making him jump and, for the first time, be a little scared.

‘So last night wasn’t indication enough?’

Pete hadn’t moved his arm so he was crowding into Patricks space. He leaned closer, his voice quiet with honesty, his eyes fixed on Patrick’s, betraying his inner vulnerability. They flicked down to Patricks lips and back again. His other hand rose for a second, as if to touch Patrick, but Pete copped out and just ran it through his hair instead.

‘It took a lot to do that, Trick, to go into your room, to make that first move without knowing what would happen. Hell, I needed a drink just to make it to the elevator.’

‘So you were drunk?!’

Pete opened his mouth, but only a sound of disbelief passed his lips. He opened his mouth again, but just closed it and shook his head.

‘You’re unbelievable.’

He turned away, stepping towards his bunk. Patrick took a few steps forward, until Pete turned round again.

‘You know, you haven’t exactly been honest with me either! You were all up for it yesterday and then you sent me packing when I tried to show you that I love you, and now you want me to be the one to feel bad?’

Patrick blinked. Did he just-?

‘Like I said’ Pete growled harshly, his voice rising again ‘make up your mind and stop fucking with mine.’

With that, Pete pushed passed Patrick and began banging on the divider.

‘Hey, this isn’t going to work, just let us out!’ he shouted through, but nothing happened.

‘LET! ME! OUT!’ he shouted, banging the door with each word.

‘Pete! Stop breaking the bus!’ came Andy’s voice from the other side, almost impossible to sound angry.

Pete just let out a roar of frustration and ran to his bed, flinging himself down, his back to the world. Patrick let out a shaky breath and slowly moved towards the bunk.

‘Pete?’

Patrick let out another breath and made his way to his own bunk. He knew that very little would get through to Pete now that he was this worked up, and that he was the last person that Pete would want to talk to right now. He lay down and put his headphones in, pretending that he couldn’t hear the quiet, gasping sobs coming from the other bunk.

 

Patrick measured time passing by the number of songs that had played. After a while he gave up counting. At some point he started humming along to the melodies quietly, almost unconsciously. He knew that it must be annoying as hell, but Pete didn’t complain. He had stopped crying, but Patrick almost wished he hadn’t because now he was being so quiet, so unlike himself, that Patrick couldn’t even tell if he was there. Sighing, he pressed pause on his iPod, and just thought. Pete had been fucking boys and girls to try and make Trick jealous. He had noticed Patrick’s stage antics, even, dare he think it, liked them. Last night he had wanted to have sex with Patrick. He had said that…that he loved Patrick. Even given the desperate situation Patrick was in, he couldn’t subdue the swell of elation in his chest as he remembered Pete’s confession. He loved him. He, Pete Wentz, Patrick’s best friend and long-time unrequited love interest, loved him, Patrick Stump. And Patrick had screwed it up. He had almost lost Pete. He had sent Pete away. He had hurt Pete. Tormented Pete, even. He had to fix this. Now. Sighing, Patrick pulled himself up and got off his bunk. Pete’s head turned a little, but he didn’t look around, the rest of his body remaining still. Patrick sat down on the floor by Pete’s head, took a breath in, and started.

‘I’ve loved you since I first met you. The first time you stood in my doorway, you were teasing my sweater and you smiled…and I was screwed. I told myself that it was nerves, that it was just me wanting to impress you, to be good enough to be in a band with the great Pete Wentz, the guy from Arma. But the next time I saw you, it happened again, and again, and…I didn’t know right away that I was, you know, into guys, but I knew that I had a major crush on you. I hadn’t really looked at girls much, I just thought that it was because they wouldn’t want me so why bother, but then I was comparing other guys to you, thinking about how they almost had your colour eyes, or how the way they laughed just wasn’t right. And each time I saw you, my heart would beat faster, and I would get red and sweaty, and nervous, and…I loved you. I hid my feelings. I was in high school, I was the fat, awkward gay kid, and you were older, and were into girls, and well, look at you. I was scared that you would laugh. After a while, I knew that it wouldn’t go away so I just dealt with it, lived with it, got on with life, with the band. I tried seeing other people, but it never worked out. I think that they could tell that I wouldn’t be able to give them everything that they wanted, that there was a part of me that would never belong to them.’

Patrick paused, looking down at his hands. Pete had turned over and was watching Patrick, but Patrick couldn’t look at him, not yet.

‘After a while, a long while, I got used to it. How I would light up when I saw you, how I was a better me around you, and all of that sad sap stuff. We were best friends and that was perfect. I knew that I couldn’t have everything, but I was so happy that you were my best friend, that you trusted me, loved me like that, that much. I didn’t say anything because I knew what you would say: you would say ‘I’m sorry, believe me I love you, just not in that way.’ I could live with that, I had been for years. Of course, sometimes you would say things, do things that got me hoping again, but I wouldn’t let myself think like that. Of course you didn’t mean it like that. I considered them attacks. Like I had a condition because I was in love with Pete Wentz. I put it into making music instead. You haven’t heard most of it, I keep it away from the band, you don’t need to hear that stuff. I’d had an attack that day, before we went to that bar and got drunk. And I was angry. Why was I putting myself through this? Why not just tell him, have him say no and then you can finally move on? It was an argument that I had had so many times, and each time I would end it with, ‘he could tell me no, and I would still love him, and I would still be like this’. I didn’t think that I would actually tell you, but it just came out. I told you that I loved you.’

Patrick finally looked up at Pete. His beautiful eyes were red, but he wasn’t crying now. He was just looking at Patrick, drinking in every word. Patrick looked away again.

‘When you didn’t say anything, I panicked. Of course you wouldn’t say anything. I had to get out, get away. That night was terrible. I…I didn’t want to see the morning. It would mean facing you, now that you knew, and I both wanted that and I wanted never to see you again. And then you were there, and I- I didn’t want things to be totally ruined so I said that I didn’t love you, that I was drunk, just so that things could be like they always were. But it didn’t work out like that. I would remember, and I couldn’t trust myself. I couldn’t be close to you. I had to be cold, just to protect myself, stop myself from going mad. And I was so wrapped up in it all, in myself, that I didn’t even think how you would be coping. I just assumed.’

Patrick put a hand on the edge of the bed, not an invitation to hold hands, but a gesture of wanting to be closer.

‘Then you went off fucking every fangirl, and now I realise boy, that would throw themselves at you, and I just thought that was you coping. And yes,’ at this Patrick looked up at Pete ‘it made me jealous’.

The corners of Pete’s mouth twitched.

‘I’m sorry for all the stage antics, but I needed to get all of, all of this’ Patrick made a wild motion with his arms ‘out of me. I did that by being on stage, and the energy went into playing, and that kind of meant that all the frustration and shit came out too so…’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m not sorry though, God damn you were the devil on stage I swear, just out to torment me. To have everything that I wanted right there and totally unavailable at the same time?’

Patrick shook his head and laughed quietly.

‘I didn’t listen into your argument by the backstage door that night, I didn’t want to be messed up in anything. But the air seemed to clear between us afterwards, and things were good again, and I was happy. It felt like I had you back, like everything was on track again.’

‘Then you were in my room.’

‘I tried to be sensible, I’d not allowed myself to see anything that could even resemble hope, but you were there and you were kissing me and it was getting heated and…I couldn’t believe it. Something had to be wrong. And then I opened my mouth, and a ruined it all. You left. I hated myself for that. Still do. I fucked things up. But I love you, and I want you. I don’t care what shit comes with it Pete, I just want you.’

Patrick looked up again, this time making eye contact with Pete, losing himself in those whiskey eyes.

‘I want you.’

Patrick felt drained, but he felt like a weight had left his shoulders. He had told Pete everything. He had been honest. It was up to Pete what happened now. After a pause that felt like forever, Pete looked away and sat up, his hoodie rising to expose a strip of skin that Patrick did _not_ stare at. Slowly, Pete slid off of his bunk and onto the floor next to Patrick. He reached out and took hold of Trick’s hand, bringing it down between them, close, but still with space. He didn’t let go. Then it was Pete’s turn to look at the floor and Patrick’s turn to listen.

‘You’ve always been my best friend. We’ve always been that, best friends, we just clicked. Joe and Andy are fucking amazing and I love them, but it was different with you. You could help me sleep, you wouldn’t care if I called you at 2am, you wouldn’t care if I snuck in, and it was always you that I would go to. You could calm me down, make me see a point again when things were dark, you…you were my angel. My perfect Lunchbox. I didn’t- I didn’t know that I loved you until you said it. I was totally shocked because well, you’re you. You are gorgeous and sweet and so talented and you could have anyone you wanted, but you wanted me, a fuck up.’

Patrick really wanted to interrupt here, but he knew that he had to listen, to let Pete finish.

‘And then you ran, and I didn’t know what to do so I just kept on drinking. And thinking. And the more that I thought about you, the more that I knew that I couldn’t live without you, that I loved you more than anything. I won’t lie, I’ve jerked off to thoughts of you before this happened, I’ve messed around with you, said stuff that, I’ve kissed you, did all the stage stuff, mostly because I guess I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but those feeling have always been there, I just didn’t recognise them until you said it. I didn’t sleep that night, I was just thinking about you. I waited for you to wake up, I was going to tell you that I loved you too and fuck anyone who complains, but then you said that you didn’t love me, and I was so confused. I tried to act as before, to be best friends and hope that that just cascaded into more, that I would find that perfect moment to tell you how I felt, but you would move away. Something was wrong. You would answer my calls, but you would never stay on the line. You were always with others, never with me. It made me worry, it made me doubt, it made me question, it made my voice in my head so damn fucking loud. I don’t know why I decided to fuck it out of my system, but there was this guy, he was making eyes and insinuations at me, he was small and blonde, and fuck, if I couldn’t have you, if I closed my eyes, I could pretend that he was you. I saw your face afterwards when I came back, when I wasn’t even hiding what had happened. I thought that if I could make you jealous then you would just snap and shout at me and I could tell you, or that you would come and find me, that you would want it to be you that I was fucking. On stage you were so fucking wild! You had so much energy, how could I not be attracted to that, how could I have let you go. And you were dancing round me, and kissing me, and fucking grinding your dick into my back and _teasing_ me..’

At this point, Pete threw his head back against the bed, as if remembering a certain feeling or movement. Patrick grinned slightly. It shouldn’t be hot, they were having a serious conversation, he was still in the shit, but fuck if it wasn’t turning him on. The memory seemed to end and Pete cleared his throat, continuing.

‘Then it got dark. I wasn’t sleeping, I was taking my pills, more than I should, I was fucking after every show, I was drinking… well you know what happened. You saw the argument, you know that I called him by your name, that I wanted him to be you. That night you saw me, really saw me, and…you looked scared. You were scared of what I had become. Fuck, I was scared of what I had become. I don’t know why, but I just needed you that night, I needed to sleep and you were the only lullaby that worked. And you let me into you bed. You didn’t say a word, you just let me in. I was half asleep and I heard the most wonderful thing possible. It was your voice, saying that you missed me.’

Pete turned to look at Patrick, meeting his eye.

‘I wanted things to be the way they were. It didn’t matter if it we weren’t a couple, or if we weren’t together or whatever, I just missed you. So much. When I woke up you were gone, you weren’t in the bed. I had to find you. I had to put things right. And you seemed to agree.’

Pete smiled at this, bringing Patrick’s hand up in the air, and looking at their joined hands.

‘Things were great. Like they used to be. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What we could be doing, what you could be doing with that mouth of yours’ he shot a dirty smile at Patrick, letting their hands fall back to the floor. ‘You- you can’t just turn off that side of your head, you know? Now that I had those feelings, those thoughts, they just stayed. They got stronger. I missed the stage stuff, but I got more time to be with you, you got me through my dark phase. As you always do. After a while, I- I needed to do something. I had all of these feelings, this desire, this fucking affection that I needed to do something, to let you know. I tried, several times mind, to tell you, but it never happened. I couldn’t. But I could show you. I was so scared when I went to your room. When I got there, you weren’t even around, you were in the shower. It was so damn cliché.’

He laughed, and tipped his head back, looking at the ceiling.

‘You were so surprised, so flustered, you were blushing and you were so damn cute and insecure. It was easy almost. I had no control over my body, I just moved and I was kissing you, and you were moaning, and kissing back, and oh my God, it was perfect. I had you to myself, I wanted you so much and you were there with me, being so dirty and so sinful with those moans and-‘

Pete visibly shook himself. His grip on Patrick’s hand tightened. Patrick knew what was coming next.

‘Then you didn’t want it anymore. You didn’t want me. You thought that I was only doing it because I was drunk and high. I was angry. I was pissed off. Couldn’t you see that I loved you? Couldn’t you see that you loved me too? I had to go, I couldn’t stay there with you, I needed to run. So I did. I didn’t know if you wanted me in that moment. What if I had made a big mistake? What if you had moved on? I couldn’t sleep, my head wouldn’t shut up, it- it drove my fucking crazy.’

Pete grip was getting painful now.

‘I didn’t know what to do this morning. So I did nothing. I said nothing. Then came the worst. Question. Ever. Why did she have to ask that? Could she tell? Thank fuck Joe stepped in before she could say more. And what did I say? I dismissed everything. It took all I had not to just shout at her and leave, or worse, just let it all out and hope that you would say ‘I love you’ back. And then this:’

Pete waved his free hand randomly around the room, indicating being locked in together.

‘I meant what I said.’

He now looked at Patrick.

‘I meant everything that I said. I don’t think that you had your headspace right. You’ve denied yourself this for so long, that you just couldn’t see what was in front of you, being offered to you, I get that now, but an hour or so ago? I was fucking mad. After everything, and you still didn’t know if you wanted me or not? I needed to get out but those fuckers’ he raised his voice ‘wouldn’t fucking let me the fuck out!’ He smiled softly. ‘I was mad. I was angry. I was heartbroken. I don’t know if I could have waited longer. I would have done if I needed to, I would always wait for you, but right then I didn’t want to, I needed you to want me. I needed a release, to make it all go away. And then you sang. And I calmed down. Even when I’m mad at you, I love you. And I can’t ever stay mad at you for long. And then you talked. And then I talked. And now I’m going to kiss you.’

Pete leaned in and Patrick met him halfway. The kiss was nothing like their kiss last night. It was soft and sweet, and it conveyed everything that both of them couldn’t say. Patrick pulled away eventually when he ran out of breath. Pete’s lips were slightly swollen, his eyes sparkling in a way that Patrick hadn’t seen for a long time.

‘So we’re good?’

Pete grinned his trademark, too much teeth smile and Patrick just had to kiss those lips again. Pete chuckled a little into Trick’s mouth. Patrick put a little pressure on Pete’s lips with his tongue and Pete opened for him, letting him explore his mouth, moaning a little into the kiss. One hand found its way into the front of Pete’s shirt, pulling him closer, the other still held in Pete’s hand. Before things got too heated, Pete pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. For a moment they just breathed heavily together, then Pete smiled and Patrick giggled and they were laughing together like a pair of teenagers. As the laughter subsided, Pete looked up at Patrick.

‘Yeh, we’re more than good.’

Patrick got up from the floor rather inelegantly, stumbling a bit, but he helped Pete up and together they headed towards the divider.

‘Hey Fuckers!’ Pete shouted, banging on the door ‘Let us out!’

‘Come one guys’ Patrick added ‘We’re good, let us out!’

There was the sound of a murmured conversation on the other side.

‘Or you know, just leave us in here to starve and die, you’re choice’ Pete called out, getting impatient. He was greeted by laughter and finally the sound of things being moved away.

‘Do you think they heard us?’ Trick asked with a bit of concern, turning to Pete.

Pete just shrugged.

‘I expect so, I mean we weren’t exactly keeping it down.’

‘Yeh, we heard you, and Patrick makes far too much noise when he’s kissing you’ Andy said, his head appearing as the divider was drawn aside.

‘Damn it Trick, we so should have had sex just to enlightened them in the sounds of our super-hot, super loud love-making’

Patrick snorted and leaned into Pete, whispering in his ear ‘Well there is always later’

Pete inhaled sharply, and let his hand slip down to Patrick ass which he squeezed.

‘Good to see that locking you together in a room worked then’ said Joe as he made his way over from the kitchen area. ‘God knows what we would have done if it hadn’t’

‘Say what needed to be said for them and locked them in a hotel room?’ Andy suggested

‘Or forced a naked photo shoot or something and left you to it’ Joe countered, flopping on the couch.

‘So you guys knew?’ Patrick said, changing the subject quickly before Pete got any ideas, and joining Joe on the couch.

‘Well yeh, kinda hard not to know really. You guys have been dicking around for years, God knows why it took you so long to even man up and tell each other that you are totally gay as choirboys for each other.’

‘Thanks, you make me feel so much better’ Patrick said sarcastically.

‘Seriously though’ Andy said ‘You guys have both been off, and it was affecting the band, all your mood swings of wanting to kill each other or wanting to do the dirty. We had to step in.’

Patrick just nodded, watching as Pete perched on the edge of the sofa.

‘So how long until we reach wherever we are next?’

‘I don’t know, just wait and see I guess’ Joe supplied, not particularly interested.

‘And it’s a hotel night again, right?’

‘Sure, but- Ah, no, Pete TMI! TMI!’

Patrick just chuckled and pulled Pete into his lap, intertwining their hands again. Joe took a look, shook his head and pulled out his phone. Pete whispered in Patrick’s ear, his breath tickling his skin.

‘Why have a dirty bunk when you can have a bed and a key to a room where you can be all mine’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with it! This is my first fic posted here and I'd love to know what you think, good or bad. 
> 
> It was inspired by the Sam Smith song 'Not In That Way' which is a beautiful song, go listen to it. There are other lyrics dotted in here, but I mostly just picked them up from friends or the radio and don't actually know who wrote them, hence why I have not written out who they are by.


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